A Year Without Rain
by Foxes' Dreams
Summary: The world itself is an analogy. Chase seemed to swim in a sort of blurred mist, before the eyes of a painful memory. He still prayed that, miles away, Cameron didn't cherish any petty resentment, but fell into an abstracted reverie. Set after 8x10 "Runaway".


A Year Without Rain

T.V. Show: House MD

Pairing: Chase/Cameron

Author: Foxes' Dreams

Summary: The world itself is an analogy. Chase seemed to swim in a sort of blurred mist, before the eyes of a painful memory. He still prayed that, miles away, Cameron didn't cherish any petty resentment, but fell into an abstracted reverie. Set after 8x10 "Runaway".

* * *

Chase disarmed anger and softened asperity quickly after the patient, whose back storyline seemed incomprehensible, fled away. He felt genuinely himself carried off his feet by the rush of incoherent impressions that rose within him.

He was walking to the deserted locker room after finally and ultimately confirming that the girl ran away from the reality she had found irreversibly altered. He wanted to detach from this subject, but couldn't avoid its web even if he fought dearly. It just wasn't a dauntless task, one that would disappear in a matter of short time. He nodded mutely to himself, hugging the thought of his own unknown and unapplauded integrity.

Chase was walking just like an automatic machine, looking both impassive and distracted, the exhaustion clearly visible in the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes. He took in the surroundings, measuring them approximately. The moment he realized he was utterly alone, his fist instantly connected with the metallic door of a locker, a loud, fierce groan of inward protest escaping his lips. The blood-curling sound echoed in the hallway, but passed unseen since in the middle of the night, most of the staff had already headed home, to a cozy and airy environment.

The doctor shook his hands grudgingly, and let himself fall on the nearest bench, without considering the universal gravity having its own consequences. He sat down with an annoyingly loud thump, his throbbing head finding a temporary calmness in his hands. He regarded the wooden, frigid floor stonily out of his flint-blue eyes, only a frosty agitation taking over him completely.

Then, he suddenly poured out the full opulence of depressive recognition, one he didn't even want to mention, but the circumstances didn't alleviate his wounds, moreover, they forced him to face the fact entirely as the embodiment of resolution.

 _2 years_

"Cameron left two years ago," he whispered to himself with sweet, but excruciating severity. Chase strangled a fierce tide of feeling that welled up inside him. He wouldn't allow himself to cry, not even at that moment, because he had grown stronger, not wearier or more defect. He had instructed himself to take steps, small, but major steps, until he thought he swept away all opposing opinion with the swift rush of a placated enthusiasm.

He was standing on the same sinful bench just like years ago, when his own fatality provoked him the greatest and unbearable loss. Sickening contrasts and diabolic ironies of life flashed before his eyes, and he left out another sigh, hoping to bring some relief, especially after the disappointing experience with the teenage runner.

Then, awkwardly, but gracefully, silence fell.

Chase wasn't supposed to even think about this, to put himself in another whizz of suffering. The slender experience of the facts regarding life taught him to always avoid the slope towards extinction, to put aside feelings and to focus on circumstances.

He got up in a rush, probably propelled by a panicky, inexplicable energy, and rushed to his locker and retrieved his mobile phone, and in a glimpse, collapsed back on the hard bench, as though the slow movement was torturous.

Her phone number still existed, even after years of denial, when he vowed to have moved on in his trenchant, tumultuous life. Her sweet, exuberantly innocent voice was only seconds away, but he urgently restrained himself from committing another mistake.

He almost dropped the phone on the frigid, even floor, but suddenly he got softened by the solicitude of untiring and anxious love. His fingers gripped the phone tightly as if they were holding onto a final chance.

Some flash of witty irrelevance combined with dim-remembered memories unrolled before his eyes as he pressed the button and let the sound overwhelm the sterile quiet.

His solitary and sorely smitten soul seemed to be at ease for a moment, for the first time in a long time, something eminently human beaconed from his wide pupils. The stale and facile action of calling her finally hit him and quickly ended the process, like it utterly burned his trembling hand.

He showed a spectacular display of wrath and self-control to ignore the milestone of a chance. The call lasted for brief seconds, and then ended abruptly. He massaged his scalp with all the tension mustered and left hurriedly, to find an immediate distraction.

Life is defined by chances.

* * *

Cameron knew she should be asleep by now, quietly lulled by the urban hum happening underneath the velvet sky. She was in a phase of a stern emptying of the soul, feeling vulnerably bare and stripped of any gulf of time. She was sitting upright in a previously comfy bed she should be sharing, subdued passages of unobtrusive memories enveloping her completely.

While Cameron stemmed the tide of opinion, she was promptly disturbed by the annoyingly strong ring, which was quickly followed by another one. She looked stamped with unutterable and solemn woe, kicking the white sheets furiously when she saw the name of the caller coming just like an odd prophecy.

On wobbly legs, she got out of the wrinkles bed and strode back and forth, obviously startled into perilous activity. "He thought of me," She whispered amazingly loud, stirring a great mental agitation inside her. At a frantic pace, she took only a lousy, improper pair of old, ripped jeans and an olive camisole and left into the endless night, looking for self-redemption she would find in a unique place, which she willingly drifted apart from.

Strange laughing escaped her lips, glittering of silver streamlet cradled her face, as she established the point of her furious running.

Cameron needed absolution and devotion, two elements she craved for, but distanced from in a moment of supreme vulnerability. She sunk into a dark reverie when he called; she finally let out the epiphany constricted in her veins.

Sweet smoke of burning twigs hovered over the damp autumn day, as Cameron's soul regenerated.

 _2 years_

 **Author's Note:** Confession for myself...

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